three leaves

I was worried about the man
with the leaf blower.
all day outside
pushing leaves off the sidewalks
into the street
and up
to where the large truck
with a vacuum tube
sucked in
the debris of leaves
and branches.
I could see that the poor
man,
in his do rag and ear phones
and purple
company sweatshirt
only had nine more gallons
of gasoline left,
and yet there were three
leaves that wouldn't
budge,
stuck wet to the pavement
I watched him at the window
as he turned
the blower up high, then
higher
standing over the three
leaves.
the other men waved
him back, but he refused
he was determined to blow
these remaining leaves
into the truck.
finally, at dusk,
as the motor was dying on
his machine, the leaves
dried and became free
and he blew them
to where the men
applauded and cheered,
it was a successful day.